I heard today on the radio that there's a shortage of blood supply here in Gainesville, Florida. Reserves are so low there's barely enough blood to last one full day at a time. LifeSouth Community Blood Centers reports about this emergency blood shortage on their website.

"The blood supply stands at less than a one-day supply which has blood center officials very concerned," writes John David Larkin Nolen, LifeSouth's Medical Director. "All eligible residents are asked to give blood. Blood donations haven't kept pace with demand and we've had a very tight supply for the past few weeks. But today several patient situations involving children and adults facing life threatening medical conditions depleted the reserve supplies. We're worried about our overall ability to make sure the patients that need blood will receive what they need during the next few days."

I wish I could donate my blood, but I can't. Until I've been free from cancer treatment for five years, no none wants it. But maybe you can help. Try tracking down your local blood center and see what you can do to help. It may just be the gift that saves a life.

Chemotherapy can upset the digestive system. It can cause nausea and vomiting -- although I never did throw up during my own chemotherapy, thanks to medication for these side effects. Chemotherapy can diminish overall feelings of wellness and can cause sore gums and mouth sores and dry mouths. Clearly, chemotherapy can ruin an appetite.

But patients receiving chemotherapy need to eat. And they need to drink. They need to maintain nutrition and energy and strength during a physically taxing time. And so the challenge facing many entrenched in chemotherapy is how to eat when the act of chewing, swallowing, and digesting food is so completely unappetizing.

Barbara Curtis shares in a chapter of Chicken Soup for the Breast Cancer Survivor's Soul a recipe that made a difference for her sister during her worst days of chemotherapy.

Her recipe -- for chemo popsicles -- includes essential ingredients. Fruit and tofu provide phytochemicals, protein, and liquids for depleted bodies. The cool popsicle soothes sore mouths and settles stomachs. And the ease of putting together this simple snack is nothing short of tempting.

My advice -- save this recipe. And savor it too.

Chemo Popsicles

Fresh-squeezed orange juice, one 8-ounce glass
Frozen mangoes, 1/4 package, or 1 cup frozen berries
1/4 square tofu, medium firmness
One banana
Add passionfruit juice or other fruit juices for flavor

Put all ingredients into a blender. Blend to liquify. Add more juice if mixture is too thick -- it should be as thick as a smoothie. Pour blended mixture into Tupperware or plastic popsicle molds and freeze.

I was hospitalized twice last year for chemo-induced fever and low blood counts. My first stay came at a busy time -- the hospital's oncology floor was full and there was no space for me. So I was admitted to the bone marrow transplant unit as an overflow patient and suddenly -- even in my very sick and compromised state -- I became the healthiest person on the floor. My white blood count was 700 -- sounded pretty bad to me -- but some of the patients staying on this floor with me had no blood counts because in order to receive a transplant, their own bone marrow is completely depleted in order to prepare for new bone marrow. Patients on this floor are considered pretty healthy when their counts reach 500. I was considered sick and was hospitalized at 700. Adults and children on this floor stay in rooms behind glass panels and with special -- and loud -- air flow systems that push germs out of the room. Visitors must wear gowns and shoe covers and must wash their hands before entering the rooms. Patients might stay on this floor for months at a time, receiving chemotherapy and preparing for their eventual bone marrow transplants. Some patient rooms are decorated and arranged just like home. Parents prepare rooms for children with play areas and craft areas and television areas. This floor is home to many sick children -- and this is what affected me most. For my five days on the bone marrow transplant unit, I gained an up-close and personal look at what many parents and children encounter when cancer derails their lives. It was so much more than I had to encounter. It must be quite an undertaking to prepare a child for this experience.

I picked up a coloring book the day I was discharged and walked off this floor and back into my own life. It's a coloring book that comes from The Leukemia & Lymphoma Society and is made by bone marrow transplant patients for children preparing for their own transplants. There is a poster for children to color and hang on their hospital room walls that says I Will Get Well, there is a page that terms chemo and radiation as Laser Rays and Guard Dogs and pages that help children visualize happy moments -- like playing a favorite sport or activity and jumping rope in the warm sunshine. This book reminds children that it is okay to cry and it even includes a prescription: Make sure you get at least one hug every day!

The overall message of this coloring book, which is stated in writing is, "A good attitude does not mean being cheerful all the time; it just means that you know that this is necessary to help fight your cancer."  Well said. And something I will always remember.